


He Should Never be Alone

by finnickodead



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: His Landlady is worried about him, Isaac is in Paris, cuteness, maybe sadness??
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-20
Updated: 2015-02-20
Packaged: 2018-03-13 22:43:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 410
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3398951
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/finnickodead/pseuds/finnickodead
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based Post-Isaac and Argent's disappearance to Paris.<br/>Isaac is pretty glum.<br/>His little old landlady really wishes he wasn't.</p>
<p>A drabble because that's literally all I can write.</p>
            </blockquote>





	He Should Never be Alone

The apartment was dank and lonely but the water ran warm and the electricity was reliable. 

The landlady often woke to yowling screams in the night- they came from the room upstairs and they were full of pain and anguish. He shouldn’t be alone- she thought- a boy like him should never be alone. 

His friend- the older man, Argent- had left in the dead of night without warning. Through the ceiling she’d heard desperate negotiations and pleas that led nowhere- and the boy was still there in the morning, all alone in this foreign city. 

His French was rusty- she used to give him lessons in the first few weeks of his arrival, he was sad then too but there was still light in his eyes, however low it burned. His pronunciation was poor but he picked up the grammar fast enough. 

He didn’t really have enough money to pay the rent and she’d let him off on that one too many times. But she pitied him- he was scared and alone and she could see he longed for home.  
He worked in a grimy cafe across the street and made a pitiful living. Sometimes, if his wages were kind enough, she’d open her door to find him standing there meekly clutching a greasy bag of pastries. It was his way of saying ‘thank you’ for those time she cleaned or cooked for him when he looked particularly fragile or lost.

He was young but his eyes were wise, like they’d seen things she couldn’t possibly fathom. His face was lined with fear and stress. No young boy’s face should be etched quite so deeply. 

He was waiting and she knew that he’d never planned on staying this long- he wished for familiarity, he longed for it. Sometimes, through her net curtains she’d see him standing just beyond their front door, in the rain, waiting and watching half expectantly. But nothing ever happened and no one ever came. Eventually he’d give in and turn back for his temporary home, dejected.

She hoped and she prayed that whoever he waited for would come. That she’d see a smile on his face at last, that he could be warm and happy again. With every bone in her aged body she wished that the strange boy with the glowy eyes, pretty hair, poor French and good heart would find himself and that Isaac Lahey would be safe always, and never, ever alone


End file.
